Ax Fell (A tale of change)

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Prelude

A savage born from the mist escaping a tragic youth Jack came into Barovia mentally disturbed and unable to speak. Almost in savage way he bore clothing one would in the wild. But beaten by the Vallaki Garda on numerous occasions and some attempt at outlanders civilizing him made him into the Barovian mentality living individual he is today.

Yet , however the life of Barovia instilled to him by Lance Corporal Dragomir had made him the bitter hate of most outlanders who he saw breaking the laws and ruining the land of the people who raised him. Giving them no respite he bullied, chastised, and assaulted many outlanders both in a Barovian fear as well as a fear for their cruelty to each other.

When the Mist Man came and offered him power to fight back against the oppression of outlanders he took it. When a child Vrolok named Molly showed a side of humanity more so than the outlanders he embraced it. Yet the outlanders would ridicule and mock him for being feeble minded or embracing darkness to entities that were not mortal.

This lead Jack to chose between the outlanders and his new friends the Mist Man and Molly. Choosing the latter he had aided both in escape from the outlander parties chasing them down into the Mists where they could escape and be free. Confronted by an outlander party there was a brutal battle. Jack had slaughtered several outlander in justification to protect his friends and show the Mists it did not matter if they were mortal or not anything could have humanity and anything can have cruelty.

Dying Jack was enticed by power to be strong like his new friends. The Mist Man had use itself to give life back to Jack and the vial of blood Molly had given him he had drank. In turn he was spared death and was given a boon by the mist. Molly had shown Jack what he needed to do to continue having this power to continue living.

When they disappeared his cruelty lasted for some time towards the outlanders subterfuge by the aiding of the Garda such as Rodica and Dragomir. But as time passed even the Garda would betray him as the people of Vallaki turned on him and Outcast him for being even crueler to outlanders as they were to him. Time's had change and being an outcast you live among those that hate you.

That is when Echo and many other outlanders welcomed him showed him kindness. It didn't matter who or what they were it was that act of kindness that endeared Jack to them in his simple mind. When even those people passed away or disappeared Jack was alone left to wander and begin a life of a smith and merchant. Isolation had kept him alive and now more and more outlanders came.

Now the life of the past was almost forgotten with the life of being a Merchant. Life was doing well for him but the past soon caught up with him as his "Mist Sickness" as he called it fought to remind him the boon of life it gave. The hunger growing to consume the hearts of his victims to sustain his own life. He swore to only consume the heart of those wicked and he delighted in it. Now as he grew stronger so did his boon and the dark desires that whispered in his waking and in his sleep.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Justification

To repay the horrible transgression Jack accepted the gifts his monstrous friends granted him. When the Mist Man entered his body much like the small spheres one broke filled with mist to painfully raise the nearly departing the pain was excruciating. Jack was a reasonably broad and built man with a heavy unkempt beard the definition of tough but the pain had him screaming out like a boy who wanted his mother as he felt his very lungs filled with pins and needles. Echoing in his mind the Man made of mist told him to breathe and keep breathing.

Laying on his back in the mud with in the foggy recess of the land of mist Jack's vision began to clear. His mind recalling the horrific battle with the outlanders who were trying to murder Molly and the Mist Man. It was terrible wrong to kill him on his beliefs. A terrible wrong to murder a little girl even though she was a vampire. Yet that little girl showed him more kindness than any outlander had ever shown him. The Mist Man continued to circle in his lungs and told Jack they were one now and that he would live if not for a little while longer.

It was painful to move breathing was better but Jack could feel his chest was split open the cool foggy air wet kissing his bare bone. The small visage of a child, a young girl, entered his view with her reddish-pink dress and curly locks of gold surrounding a pale face. Tiny fingers grazed the wound and press those fingers to her lips were she licked. There was a slight satisfaction from the taste before light tears filled the eyes.

"I'm sorry I must leave you dear Jack. You been a wonderful caretaker and a wonderful friend and playmate. You should drink the vial I given you if you wish to live. You may survive you may not." said the soft cool tiny voice.

Jack grunted in pain. "Vill I be like ju?"

Admiring the oaf of a would be barovian Molly smiled. "I wouldn't want you to be like me. But, maybe you'll be different if not stronger. Normally one must take from their master. I given you a vial of my blood as a friend."

Achingly reaching for the vial in his coat he admire the reddish blood with it's golden flicks of dust. It was pretty to look at just like the small child. "Damn dose outlanders. Damn demn for killin' each other. And damn demn for killin' me. I swear to ju Molly. I swear to de Mist. I vill be stronger den demn. Stronger den me now. And nobody is gonna take anything I love away from me ever again!"

Popping the Cork off with just his thumb the oaf looked at the liquid again. "You who wound me, your no better than shit.
  "You who called me weak, watch me be strong.
  "For the ill-kindness yah showed me, I'll rage in kind.
  "May de hatred yah shown me be repaid spades."

With out hesitation Jack drank the vial of blood letting it rush through his gullet never spilling a drop. As he winced in pain and let his hand drop to the side with vile he felt his eyes grow heavy his vision grow blurry the feint golden hair child's smile fading as it turned to walk into the Mist. Only the raspy voice of the Mist Man comforted him as he fell to sleep.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Drama

Awakening from the effect of drinking the blood Jack had survived he had lived where others had killed him. Their friends will know they were dead and come looking for them. They would try to kill him again. Touching his body he heard the Mist Man speak of him being awake. But, it was hard to focus the sudden urge of hunger rose in him and Jack thought that this was it he was a Vrolok.

Cordially telling Jack he was not a vrolok he suggested for him to stare into the pool of blood. Jack stared at himself in the pool of blood relieved. Vroloks, Vampires, didn't have a reflection yet there was his ugly mug in the pool of blood. And yet he felt hungry and reached into his pack for any left over rations. In the moment it entered his mouth he spat it out in disgust as the very taste of it was bland and ash to his tongue. He tried another piece gingerly and still found repulsion. Eying the corpses he gingerly touch them before feeling a tingling of excitement and hunger began to find himself excited to dig into the corpses still warm body.

Consuming flesh was only slightly nourishing yet madden and ravenous he dug through the chest using strength he never knew to open the man's rib cage. There pass the breast plate was the warm soft heart. When Jack first pulled it out he admired it tenderly like a lover and succulent place the heart to his lips and consumed it. There were three more corpses and hungrily he devoured each man's heart.

Satisfied and full Jack eyed the bodies for a long time realizing what he had done. Yet the simple mind of the oaf didn't care he was alive and they were dead. On top of it he ate their bloody wicked hearts. That was good enough for him if some one wronged him or were wicked to him he just bloody do that. But, he wasn't a total idiot either people would question why corpses were missing hearts.

"If you got in a bloody fight and it so happens some ravenous beast ate the hearts of your opponents. Well it wouldn't be your problem. Now would it?" spoke the Mist Man.

Gazing about it was clear Jack was lost and with this new power it may be his only survival while lost in the Mist. It would be a long arduous survival but Jack refused to die. He refused to let these outlanders to let him die here and when he got back to Vallaki Jack was going to prove to everyone nobody messed with Jack Wilson, nobody.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Misery

Returning from the Mist took him a year. A whole year lost and tarnish through surviving the mist and with the Mist Man's aid Jack had learned much of the Mist lands outlanders risked their lives through. When he found himself in the desert region of Harakir he was grateful it was some place familiar. The trek through the desert was miserable and dangerous. And above all he was alone this time as the Mist Man could not go beyond the Mists leaving remnants of himself in Jack as odd dreams or memories.

Jack hated being alone he hate the feeling of loneliness and hated the feeling that those outlanders had done this to him. It was their fault but nothing sadden or made him angrier than finding out that Echo was missing and was dead. The small china woman had been Jack's last and closest friend before this mess and it seemed a many people were gone missing or older now. That was the curse of traveling through the mist you never know what you would come back too.

Miserable Jack kept to himself upon returning to the rainy days of Vallaki offering his aid to the  and beating up any outlander who assaulted or even thought of causing trouble. That was until his own actions horrified the municipality of Vallaki and the  became soft towards outlanders. It only took months before his betrayal when Lance Corporal Teresa told him he would be an outcast to never see the day of Vallaki and shoved into the sewer like some Caliban.

That very night where he was offered a chance at redemption by sneaking into the Drain and ratting people out for information to get in good grace with the law was not Jack's cup of tea. So he got out the sewers making his way to Tser Pool where the Vistani had taken from Harakir to Barovia. He would eventually find himself in Dementlieu a more modern era like civilization one he didn't fancy much.

To Jack's luck he made friends with the Legendary Hawk of the Military there The Hawk and his wife were very kind to him. They had been friends and employer for several months till the Hawk's wife went missing. On one of his expeditions to fetch materials Jack heard rumor from his friend Kazmer the Hawk was murdered. Jack couldn't recall how many gang members, mobsters, and thieves he murdered those nights through but some one had information in who done it.

When the murdered was found and executed there was relief but no sanctification in eating the heart of the villain who had killed his dearest friend. And that would be his course during the war with Falcovia friends dying, outlanders killing outlanders, and Jack had had enough. When there was no purpose for him to stay in Dementlieu he had return to Barovia living the life of Naopte, the Night, selling wares to travelers and oddly befriend the newly arrivals from the Mist as if the Mist itself beckoned him to cater to them.

Irony was something Jack knew as feeling not as ideological occurrence. Here he was befriending the very people who had tried to kill him and yet. these weren't the people who killed him those people were long gone or dead and even forgotten. But, the boon was not forgotten and there were nights Jack tossed in turmoil and nightmare at the sights of the victims he chose for his crimes of survival. Hearts of thieves in Dementlieu and Barovia that would never find love or love ones. Though it was okay in the oafs eyes those people harmed people or attempted to harm him.

"Kill or be Killed," that was Jack's Motto now.

If anyone tried to kill them he had to figure some way to stop them. Find a way to keep up being a good guy so people didn't think he was a bad guy. but deep down that old nickname haunted him. "Jack the Angry Ax" was always behind the back of his mind always taunting him at how weak he had become over the course of a year. Jack hadn't yearn to be strong in awhile but now his condition, his Mist Sickness, was reminding him of the terrible price he had to pay to continue his life. To not feed was to weaken, to weaken was to die, and dying was something Jack didn't like at all.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Caress

It was months ago the caress of the boon taunted Jack. From nightmares to waking daydreams of events past Jack had tried to remain calm and be as friendly and as hospitable as possible. There were occasions where out lander's stupidity caused a twitch and a yearn to lose his temper but he managed to keep it in check.

Corruption of anger, violence, and intimidation crept back into him as if he were wearing old clothes. These feelings weren't foreign but he found himself after events with the Solarium and Red Vardo recalling those days of survival and fear. No matter how nice or how kind he tried each time he fed the more he lost than regained. People called him nice and he was just being courteous. No one really gave him a reason to lose his temper and he wasn't going to waste his strength on insignificant people.

Though he made the risk to tell his new close friend Mal and his Niece his secret in fear he may be losing himself as he gradually began to feel that ever encroaching darkness over his shoulders. Feeding had subsided the urges and wild imaginations but now it required more and more. Jack was afraid of himself for once afraid he would hurt his new friends and family. The Mist had grant him a boon his old friends gave him life.

People thought him strong, he wasn't. People thought him nice, he wasn't. People wanted him to live, he didn't. Turmoil by these mix feelings he was afraid of losing everything he worked so hard over and yet he was hungry not just for hearts but for more power. It was clear the people around him relied on another and Jack had always relied on himself.

Telling Galt and Rein these past days had given him some relief and some concern. Rein was young and naive Galt was the wiser but they were known out landers and knew things Jack didn't and there was the hope maybe they could cure him. Maybe they could not and he just have to live with his curse. Why did he tell them? He had survived so long alone and yet here he was fearing for his life now in his make shift shelter in the woods.

Agony among his body drove him mad. It was that dull pain that grew into pins and needles around his jaws and hands. Jack would of given anything to have it stop but he knew he was growing stronger and larger. Jack denied it and kept telling himself he didn't do anything wrong. He was in the right because of those outlanders. Jack was a good guy Jack was Jack. Strength was all that mattered in this world and if you were stronger than a group of out landers then you could survive. Just a few more hearts and he be okay just a few more and Jack wouldn't have to feel this pain or feel this turmoil anymore.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute's Enticement

Wet and warm it was deliriously delightful to wrap his hands around the still beating heart of thief below the secret underground. The young man squirmed and flailed feebly as his fellow thieves shot at Jack. He had worn his new mask about his face over his old greenish barovian coat. The band of thieves had assaulted him on his way from Haven and shot arrows at him from the cliffs. Then from trap doors thieves came charging at Jack. He asked them to stop but in truth he was hungry anyways and wiping out this small b and would make the road much safer.

As the man stopped his struggling and passed out Jack mercifully pulled his heart out from unconsciousness with his bare hands and devoured the heart before them all in the room underground. Horror and shock fell on their faces and Jack stood before the door which was their only exit. One by one each of them fell. One by one their hearts torn from their chests. He had to make sure to hack up their bodies or burn their corpses to make it seem like some out lander party had ransacked the so call evil thieves.

Chasing each and every thief was joyous and exhilarating each hunt and cunning trap hurt but Jack just feasted and feasted until his wounds recovered. The boon from the Mist healing his wounds as he fed. Control was hard to fight when he was enraged and in frenzy. But, it was better things like this than those close by him. Especially all the nice women he knew Jack couldn't dare think of doing that to them. and yet he recalled the female heart he ate a few days ago so tender and soft.

The oaf had to focus being enticed and distracted would get him killed and he wasn't ready for that yet. But, he had to feed till Rein and Galt figured out something of cure. Now he wondered if there was even a cure or if he wanted a cure. There was no harm in killing thieves no one cared for their lot or the misery they caused. No one cared for him when he was to die except monsters so maybe as a monster himself he could take pity on one of them who would beg for forgiveness. Even then no witnesses meant a chance not to be found.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brutes Despair

Cursed. Cursed was the feeling Jack held as he swept through the Drain looking for Drow. Many of the Drain knew of him as the Angry Ax, the Outcast Barovian, no thanks to Teresca. The oaf looked to ole Hoth and knew the rules to not mess up his bar or start fights in it. He knew they were here Jack had found the woman who now grew pompous. But, that's what happens with newly misted when they get strong enough, organized enough, they feel untouchable. All people did in fact do this to compensate their weak individuality hiding behind their so called friends hiding behind those that would protect them feeling no remorse at the cost. They killed his Mimne, that was his friend his sheep, and he would make those who killed them suffer as they had made Yolven suffer.

Try as he might the oaf spent days with no Drow in sight. Maybe his reputation was ahead of them and they were lying low. Jack couldn't spend to much time down here it raised questions. And he knew questions got you killed in places like this. Thankfully an abandon silver shipment for "Red" was something he found. He kept the unknowing elf from joining him on it's return. The odd man thanked Jack with that sly smile and doing a solid for such people gets you favors down the line. That's how this world work "You scratch my back. I scratch yours." or "You stab my back. I gouge your eyes." His pain was bitter, dull, and cold. It was like losing a farm animal you cared for because some one stupid wanted to make an impression to their friends. Won't be so funny when he has ever outlander and Garda sniffing on the small Drow party's tail. From Matron Ma'for's experience and his in Port he knew Drows hated being sniffed about. Worst they hated being found out it ruins a lot for them and if that brought them to him. The oaf grinned wryly wondering what Drow hearts would taste like.

Days passing as he worked in Degannway's defense encouraged by his friends to offer his expertise Mimne's death was not as painful as knowing his Best Domn's wife, Kheeta, was gone. The double death had made Yolven weak and bitter. The oaf couldn't stand seeing his favorite sheep mewling. This sheep was so close to being a wolf it infuriated him. When they spoke Jack was real, blunt, he didn't sugar any words to Yolven he needed to survive. He wanted this sheep to be a wolf like him. Otherwise he too would die for such petty things. The oaf felt sorry for the man felt sorry for his loss knowing well he had lost a wife, a daughter, a son, a close friend Jack could relate. These things didn't matter to the other sheep didn't matter to other so call heroes. They all minded their own all that mattered was there own. Even the elves acted like this for all the worth they squealed like pigs for allies they showed no more appreciation than a dvided unity against an enemy who had more unity than themselves. "Stoopid Sheep."

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Frustration

Even though his bestfriend Yolven had lost so much Jack found it frustrating helping these idiots who kept breaking his defenses. The supposed leader Simona insisted he make it more spacious and less confusing. So he did. The elf elder Lomir asked him to build a place to hold prisoners. So he did. He did as asked even though it was frustrating to watch as others just up and smash his work especially that guy "Thatcher". Some so call "Monster Hunter." people called him. The oaf working on his barricades grumbled that same Monster Hunter who saved his life and insulted him and nearly died only moment after chastising Jack about Neuri so long ago. Had he known the domn was going to be a pain in his side he let his rump be a Neuri chew toy. When the man blatantly complained of the new design set to the leader and elvin leader standards and started breaking down his barricades he grabbed a throwing ax tempted to hurl it at the man. If Yolven didn't stop him that day he would of placed the ax between his eyes. But, Yolven was in a bad mood and wanted to leave the camp. The elves had turned on Yolven as did some of the outlanders even though the man lost his wife and his closest friend to their cause with out remorse.

Jack hated them. He hated how quickly people turned their backs to each other. How quickly Rein and Galt turned their back's on him promising to save him. Promising to help find a cure. He had hope. For once in his life he felt happy and there was hope that maybe by Pelor's light he would be saved. As much as he enjoyed the boon Jack knew his new way of life endangered those he loved and to keep from insanity he did good deeds like echo asked him to so many years ago. For a time it staved off the hunger the madness. But as he got stronger, as he involved himself with people Jack was getting worst. The more Jack was among the people the more he remembered why he distrusted them why he didn't like them. He should have kept his secret. Of all people he shared it with he expected the do-gooders to be more reassuring and trust worthy. Funny how a thief was more considerate to Jack for fixing her hand and willing to keep his secret than a priestess and a grunt whom he helped over and over.

Rein Loktos had turned against Jack no thanks to Galt. Jack didn't expect Galt to be so untrustworthy the man and him had bleed together, sparred, and even nearly died together on some occasions. How could such a man betray such a bond. Right, a man whose in love with a woman half his age and naively protective of a woman whose so damn naïve he be willing to toss his friend into the fire. Would explain why his Elf partner no longer stood beside him. Drawing painful breathes as the oaf walked with Yolven to Berez much went through Jack's mind as they both squealed on him to Ianthe making him worried who else would they rat out too. Did they really believe he was some kind of monster? Was he not kind and considerate to them like any person. He didn't ask for this curse. He was forced to make a choice to die by those who cruelly judged him or live and let them rot and survive.

The pain of betrayal was surprising. He expect them to be better than those people. Rein was so naïve to be turned against him that she didn't realize the very man protecting her was turning her naivety to his own cause. What an irony. Guess Pelor blondes were made that way Jack supposed. After all he done freely to be her friend to give her trust. He was a man desperate for a cure, desperate for salvation, and they had burned him to hell much like the paladin who had promised to save him. Funny how no one was willing to sacrifice saving a man from a horror than they sooner become the horror to a man need saving. Jack could have killed Galt but that would only make him the monster Galt saw in his own eyes. And Galt was... his friend. To murder a bad sheep was like to murder an animal for being stupid. Stupid animals, they didn't know any better they learned though when the rest of the farm begins to shun them. Always happens on a farm the dumb animals think their better till either the animals in the farm or the farmer himself ends up killing the dumb ones.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Delusions

Overwhelming sadness. Sitting in the Cell of the Garda half dragged by a mob. Rein had warned him but he was foolish to trust Envith Ianthe's friend in the open. He should of walked pass him but Jack didn't want to hurt the fella. He was one of the few people he helped to learn to make steel. The domn just wanted the truth. The truth Rein and Galt blabbed to the world instead of keeping to themselves. It only took less than a day for the whole world to come after Jack. He didn't even have a good run. It didn't matter he knew it didn't matter they would hunt him down like an animal on every corner of the Core. They didn't care for Count Strahd's law, they didn't care of the injustices he suffered, they didn't care what he had to do to survive. They only cared for themselves. While Halvor killed countless of lives and encourage to bring back an evil worst than himself those people had the time to consider him as much a threat as Lord Soth. But, Jack was alone. He was always alone. For once he thought maybe just maybe he could be close.

so many had welcomed him in his shop. So many had waved hello to him welcoming him into their lives. Unlike the past. The past he tried to hide from the past he tried to forget. Each day was hell for him... since the Mist gave birth to him every day was kill or be killed. As savage with no memory the Garda beat him every day. A rare handful of outlanders tried to teach him to speak. But, they either incapacitated him and stole his fang or things, especially the pitics, or simply beat him up for existing as he was. How funny a Lance Corporal and her Garda private would take the time to teach him to b civilized, teach him balok, to teach a stupid savage to be a Barovian.

In his cell smiling uncontrollably tears staining his cheeks it was funny. The Garda who everybody hated and feared were kinder to him than any of those halflings who kept stealing from him. Or they Misters at the Mist Camp who would beat them because he didn't like how their friends treated him. His first real friend a Druid was killed by outlanders all because of a shitty thousand fang bounty. He hated outlanders and accepted the barovian way of life. He beat, taunt, and antagonize every outlander breaking the Count's law and reported them to the Garda as a good barovian should have done. When he was honored for his actions he got to meet the strongest man of all of Barovia Count Strahd.

Tall, black slick hair, well dressed, the man was the entirety of strength and realness. His very presence intimidated Jack. Something else of the man also frighten Jack unnaturally. The man looked at Jack as a lowly servant a pitiful sheep. It was clear Count Strahd was above all and was all. Jack wanted to be like the Garda be like this man because strength dominated all. Though rewarded five thousand fangs the Count was very clear on his disgust and disconcert of Jack being an outlander let alone acting like a Barovian appauled him. But, the Count was equally amused by the notion this dult was easily sway to the cause of Barovia. When Jack asked for no reward other than to be truly Barovian the words the Count spoke chilled him to the bone.

"You will never truly be Barovian. You will never earn the title of being a Barovian. You are nothing more than a guest in my land obeying my laws gives you only my respite instead of killing the lot of you. You however provide a resource in serving as a servant in my lands in my country. Remember well your place outlander you are no Barovian. Obey my lands laws, harm no vistani, harm no barovian, and you may live the rest of your meager life with out fear. Anger me and you will know swiftly my hand and my justice."

Shuddering at the memory the oaf recalled the stories by outlanders especially after Lyssa and Carmella... the truth of Strahd. That day he truly thought he could be Barovian but even as he politely declined the Count's offer for dinner being unworthy and having a sack of coin thrown at him Jack hurriedly left Castle Ravenloft never forgetting that memory. "Power was everything. Those with power make the rules."

Memories slipped and went. Memories of how he bullied outlanders in the Morning Lord temple. Outlanders the cultist allowed to break the laws. Cultist themselves breaking the laws of Count by harboring Caliban and showing the mercy. He did his best to be a good Barovian a good citizen. And even the Garda would betray him turn on him. He did everything the Garda asked and better. so it was natural for them to hate him too for doing the things they couldn't Even after he supplied them with steel to fight the outlanders. even barricading the well and many other places by the word of the Garda the Outlanders complained and had him outcast. Him, the very man who gave them steel freely got them wares to fight against neuri and outlanders with wicked vraja. Reduce to an outcast and used to flesh out criminals in the Drain like some dog.

Jack stopped sobbing. He rose angrily muttering to himself. "Stoopid outlanders!" Raging behind the bars almost madden by the word alone. Outlanders persecuted him wrongfully. Beat him for following the laws of the nation they were guests in. They outcast him when he was following the law of their Count. He pounded the ground angrily till a Garda told him to be silent and he drew into a corner naked but for his loin cloth cowering in the corner rocking back and fourth a hand holding his head and feeling his marred marks and scars.

"Outlanders..." Jack murmured. When Molly the child Vrolok came many were afraid many were intimidated by such a little thing. That day below the temple of the Morning lord was the fateful day. He had single handedly ejected an outlander from the temple protecting a Caliban. The Garda took it from there and told Jack to leave down the catacombs as there were a mob of outlanders at the front of the Temple thirsty for his blood. Uknowingly the oaf lumbered through knowing a few exits underground and that's where he met her. "Molly."

At first feared came then realization that he was thrice her size and capable of killing it he be a hero. But, what threw the oaf from such thoughts were the tears the small Vrolok shed. Tears of blood  was something unnatural Barovians should fear Vraja and Vroloks but Jack approached stupidly brave to her and ask. "What's wrong liddle one." At first she was threatening, then cunning, then Jack offered his blood in exchange that she did not misbehave to anyone except those that wronged her. They played and talked of many things. He knew if he did this n one would be hurt. No one else would have to suffer. Molly did not need to suffer. She was oddly kind to him, although like a pet and playmate, she was spoil. But, the oaf made her dresses and dolls and toys that any child would like. But, even so "Outlanders" insisted to hunt her. Insisted because she was a monster she was incapable of feelings.

"Jack who is really a monster? I need to feed to live. Much like people eat animals to live. Isn't it all murder in some way?" spoke the child Vrolok once to the oaf.

It made sense. Did dogs not cry when you wound them. Did cows not go big eye when you killed one of them. Did sheep not fall on their sides stun from the fear of death? She wasn't wrong in this. She had guided him in safety through vraja to watch as Outlanders killed outlanders over small infractions, Hid their corpses from their loves ones for simply having a bounty no more than a thousand on their heads,  murder one another on principle of defending a friend who feared falsely for their life. She had shown him the truth the very truth everyone denied. The truth that would form his life and his death.

Soon after he met the Mist Man, He never knew if it was a vrolok or an entity of the Mists itself, but it spoke to him. Hid inside him. It hurt at first but Jack grew accustomed and stronger for the constant aid the Mist Man provided. It too was a monster but this monster in it's whispers gave Jack guidance. More guidance than anyone he encountered. As Jack grew stronger fighting Neuri with his bare hands and weapons the Mist Man taught him many things about the world. About crafting, art, and money. Especially about money. All the Mist Man wanted was a friend to talk to a host to hide in and feel safe. Maybe they did use him. But, they never killed Jack. They never intentionally hurt Jack much like the outlanders did every day. He recalled when the Mists of death came and he was spared. The Mist Man looked him in the eyes and told him to go. He had killed the outlanders because they had beaten and stole from Jack that day while he was on the road. Jack didn't want people to die but he didn't care for the outlanders that did nothing to help him. They deserved it they asked for it.

When he introduced the Mist Man and Molly they were at first odd friends. But, they worked well enough together and occasionally played under Jack's supervision. It was the closest thing to real friends Jack had ever had. That was when they came to hunt Molly. The outlanders came into the tunnels of their secret playing place unannounced. Jack didn't want the people to die... he didn't want anyone to die. He pleaded to the outlanders that attacking Molly and the Mist Man would only cause their death. "They didn't listen..."

Jack was able to distract the paladin and his three friends long enough for Molly to escape. The paladin hurt Jack... he didn't want to kill them. He was able to smash the skull of the paladin into unconsciousness. The other three a rogue came behind him and struck him badly. He impaired the fiend with his great ax. The Mist Man was weakened and the other two had them on the ropes. One of the men fled for his life the other foolishly stood against the Mist Man. Jack knocked him unconscious. Jack knew they both had to leave and told them they had to return to the Mists. So they ran and ran. The day before Molly had given Jack a gift. A Vial of blood. Her blood that shimmered with flecks of gold. It was pretty to look at. It was endearing to Jack that even a Vrolok would return a debt of blood to a human. He touch his jacket where he kept it.

"Running, running, outlanders....." the oaf murmured in the Cell weeping.

They had made it to the Mist. They had made it Jack was happy and sad he was going to lose his friends. Though their departure was short lived when the four returned to hunt them down. This time Molly did not hesitate to attack and use vraja on them. However the paladin proved stronger than before. Jack knew the vraja of the paladin hurt his friends and with blinding unfiltered rage Jack valiantly pulled out his great ax smashing the paladin to the mix of metal and flesh resounded in his ears. The oaf continued to rage through the battle unhinged, Angry, begging... "Leave us alone! Ju are the monsters! Ju kill each other for less and ju will die fer less!!!"

The oaf fought till he was exhausted and his wounds severe. When the last  man fell Jack felt the seeping weakness from using his rage. The fatigue, the exertion heavy, he was dying. Laying in his own pool of blood the Vrolok shed tears of blood. Tears a creature so foreign should not shed tears. She asked if he would like to be turned. He declined. The Mist Man was wounded if Mist cans be wounded he was smaller and less visible. "Breathe me in Jack. I will give to you what life I have left. Breathe."

"Jack I must leave. Live. I want you to live. Do not forget me okay? Pinky promise?"  Molly had said to the dying oaf. She too was drain and her vraja was incapable of saving him. Not like he was now. Dying he called out to the mist as he breathed in the Mist Man and pulled out the vial. "Oh Mists save me. I dun no wrong. I did good. Dey tried to kill me even though they kill each other fer less. I drink this blood of a child vrolok and letcha make of me what ju vill as long as I dun die. If I die make me whatcha vill. Make me something to avenge my friends and avenge my wrongs. It was ju who saved demn and ju who'll save me. I curse those who deny me strength Gimme strength to beat them. Gimme life so I can avenge demn. I curse the outlanders and people who wrong me! I curse them an drag them to you for judgin'!"

That's when he drank the vial. That was when Jack had changed he was tired. So tired of the wrongs. So tired of those who were stronger preying on the weaker. He didn't want to die. Jack didn't want to become something else. But, is anger, his fear, his sorrow drove him to down the hot burning liquid and breathe in the mist. The Angry Ax died that day. He slept for some time. And when he awoke he was hungry. Hungrier than he should be. He sat up looking at his wounds mist seep through and mend his flesh. He ate the rations in his pack only to spit it out violently disgusted. He drank alcohol and water but never felt full. He eyed around and stared at the warm bodies left. Lips moist like a man hungered from starvation as he crawled to the paladin's body and leaned over it ripping the mashed plate and flesh and digging through the flesh till he pulled out his first heart. He devoured it like a child biting an apple for the first time. In his realization of what he done he howled in frustration and tears out toward the mists violently beating the bodies eating each one's heart and leaving the bodies for the mist to judge.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Dying Hope

So much time had past. Jack had loved and lost. But, none he loved more than domna Echo. The woman had saw pass the brooding angry man who had survived accused of murder. None dared to pick a fight with him. But, this China woman saw pass the brutes façade this false machoism and saw a man struggling for redemption and acceptance. She had befriend him in ways none had ever done since Molly. She had raised him to be a craftsman, raised him to be patient and kind, taught him meditations, and culture. Above all she had taught him of China and its many ways. The oaf delighted in their solitude. He would die to do anything for her. When she was ill he kept her company, he brought her food, he brought her anything her heart desired on their small cabin in the hill. But, his hope to love her was denied. She could not love him.

"Who would love a monster..." the oaf spoke in his Cell.

How cruel when the mists who took his wife from him, took echo from him, left him lost in the mist. All he desired was to find Echo and his wife. He was grateful the great change did not claim his daughter. He had lost his son to rat neuri and that hatred swelled in him. His time with Echo though fleeting were the best days of his life. It was what kept him alive the year he spent lost in the mist fighting the many monsters and illusions that spawned. Even when he starved and the mist taunted him with the lives of innocents he urged not to kill them unless threaten. Jack was a good domn, Echo wanted a good domn, when he was presented with thieves and humanoid being that threaten him he slaughtered with out mercy. He felt he mist was training him maybe testing him. It had given him life. If it were Molly's blood or the Mist man's powers maybe it was all though it didn't matter. He would live. He had to live. Dodging the worst of creatures fearing for his life. Eating those that wandered waiting for them to die with in the Mist. Jack had survived not once but twice with in the Realm of its ultimate Master. He learned raw power wasn't enough. He was a dimwit to books and education but he was not dumb to the world. He knew what people did, he observed mist travelers from afar. Murderers, Fools, and would be heroes.

Jack wasn't bright but he was an opportunist and the Mist had shown him that. Every bodies got weaknesses. Everyone shows who they really are in a pinch. Trust that everyone wanted to kill you. everyone wanted to betray you. And you would survive. But, loneliness was a killer of men's souls. People needed to be around people and he wandered outside the mist. He had returned to Vallaki ragged, starved near death, and penniless. The amount of new faces and sights were alarming. Nothing was the same and his Echo he was told had perished. He had lost everything. Jack had shun everyone from him he didn't want friends he wanted his old friends. He wanted his old life back. But, the mist had made him pay for its boon and now with his Curse he had been given what he had asked. This was a punishment from the entity that was the Mist Jack was most certain.

And yet again the oaf bullied and growled at people. He learned to craft even better things. He got close to newer people at first if not to steal secrets and make himself wealthy with fang for power. But, time healed all wounds his hatred softening his bonds with new customers enlightening. Jack's hope of changing was true. But, his secret had to remain no one could know no one will ever know. And for a time the oaf was blissfully happy till the change.
As he grew stronger the hunger grew. When he did not feed he became more like the Angry Ax he was violent, savage, uncaring. Fear crawled on Jack's skin every day. When he had camp away from the outskirts he wept in his shack in fear of what he was becoming. Was he a monster? He knew if it were not for the outlanders forcing him to fight he wouldn't have dank the vial. The vial was only if needed and at that time he needed.

"Stoopid outlanders... why didn't ju listen. Ju made me like this... ju made me into this monster you bullied and killed..." the oaf murmured in his Cell curled on the floor in the fetal position.

He had sought help many times. The Doc was interested in his condition even worked on a cure till she met her untimely fate for "Experiments" he didn't know as wrongfully conducting. Then he befriend the Hawk and his wife. tHey gave to him a second chance when Barovia wouldn't. he fought beside the Milicei, fought back against the falcovian invasion. But, outlanders would kidnap his wife. Kidnap him. Murder him.... "Outlanders... Nu people never change" People never changed. He hoped beyond hope they would change and stop killing his hopes. Then there was sweet Rein... naïve Rein... friend. No enemy Rein.

Rein had been a sweet apple in Jack's eye. He at first only wanted to use her to save himself. But, she proved kind. Considerate. Appreciative. She was a good sheep. Gal, although a Black Sheep, was a good domn. Trustworthy, honest, but had issues with women and looked at life bleakly but he and Jack fought together made a bound through blood and battle. Jack was a fool to not see the Black Sheep was a bad sheep. He wasn't going to save Jack. They weren't going to save him at all. With their sugar words and promises that they would find a cure. He didn't ask Rein to carve hearts out for him to prevent his hunger. He had told her he can do it himself she needn't taint her hands. "I carved out hearts for you.. Lost the light of Pelor for you..."

Tch. Jack grumbled shaking his head slamming it to the side of a wall repeatedly in anger at his stooped notions of how dumb the girl was. "I said find a cure... not fed me ju stooped sheep."

Jack should of known how much Galt fawned over Rein. That his own dumb arse thoughts of indulgence were impure as his. The man looked over Rein like a piece of meat. A Black Wolf in Black Sheep clothing. The man would killl, mame, dishonor anyone as long as it meant to save his Rein. And the stupid girl was to blind to see that the evil wasn't Jack the Monster. The Monster was Galt who selfishly sacrificed Jack to the world to be a hero. A domn he bleed beside, saved his life on numerous times, and yet repaied his debts by turning Jack in to the people and the Garda. He had hope of all the people he began to share his secret they would of saved him they made him believe they would save him. "Betrayed!!!!"

Betrayed. They had broken the one thing Jack held sacred. His trust and bond. They had severed it with rusty scissors reminding him once more .. "The world es filled vit monsters. Monsters that are sheep but not sheep."

Though his past was fuzzy Jack groaned holding his head weeping rocking back and fourth. He recalled the children that slaughtered his sheep and animals. They had slaughtered them because they could. Beat him cause they could the children laughing as they kicked the taller boy to the ground. "You daft filthy animal! Bastard son! Mother of a whore! Loser talking to animals like people!"

"Look he's crying! Your twice our size and you are crying! Ha ha! You are stupid!"

Jack curled onto the floor whimpering. "Stop..." He could feel them kicking his head around. "Please Stop..."

He recalled when they took Henry the Chicken before him and took a dagger and lopped off the ehad. He watched in horror as the body ran around with no head the youth traumatized by the scene. When his mother had arrived he had curled u in the corner of the barn. The woman looked over her big oafish son hands on her hips blonde tresses flowing in the breeze. Hoping for her embrace he sat up opening his arms. Jack was stunned when he found her heel to his face and she proceed to stomp on him shouting. "You stupid child! How could you let them destroy our farm! You are twice there size why didn't you beat them up! Now how are we going to pay our rent to the land lord! Do you want to make a whore out of your mother!"

In the cell of the Garda jail Jack whimpered mostly to himself. "I'm sorry Momma. Please stop hurting me Momma."

Jack knew his mother wasn't a whore. He didn't know his father. Apparently his dad had left them when she bore him a daft son. Momma blamed Jack all the time for his stupid things and talking to the animals. She always sung him a lullaby or told him a story before bed saying she was sorry. When Jack got older he learned quickly to follow his mother's words. When the bad kids returned after Mother had scrounge enough coin for more animals they proceed to kick Jack to the ground . But, something snapped in Jack he grew violent and enraged grabbing one child and breaking his leg tossing the other children around like hens in a hen house. That day his mother beat him because they had to pay dues to the child's broken leg and she proceeded to chase him around the house with the wicker broom.

"I'm sorry momma. I did watcha told me momma!" Jack screamed in his cell.


When the bad man came he did something to his mother. He had never seen or known of sex before. It was the land lord hurting his momma. He knew he was the land lord but his momma had always told him bad people deserve a beating. He beat the man from an inch of his life. The boys of the man who served him were his sons the same who had beaten him many times. When they threaten to kill his mother Jack had lost it. He had killed all five of them with out remorse they were bad people. His mother was a Whore. They were right. She beat him and scolded him. "Look what you have done you stupid child! I should have drowned you at the Mill when I gave birth to you!"

Jack had snapped his mother lied. His mother was everything they said they were and more. She had tried to stab him with a dirk in her blouse. Jack was betrayed by his own mother. He had hoped she was a good mother. She wasn't. People came to hurt Jack. They always came to hurt Jack. He did what they said he hoped he did what they said and he would be left alone. He hoped he could be happy. But he was betrayed. He hoped they would be nice. They threaten him. He hoped they be fair. They weren't fair.

Jack rose from the floor wiping his tears and sitting on the shitty wooden bench that served as his bed and smiled he smiled a fang filled smile yellow changed eyes and flesh marked curse baring. "Life ain't fair. But, I isn't gonna be fair either."

Laughter fill the Cell as he placed a hand to his face shaking his head tears of utter humor. A Garda unnervingly from the door checked in on him most certainly thinking the Iadul outlander had lost it. Jack just eerily sat in his cell awaiting the Lance Corporal smiling all to confidently as he sat thinking how this was going to go. Jack smiled knowing something few may know and he wasn't going to die with out returning all done to him in kind.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Cure

Like sunlight brightening the dark his closest friends Yolven and Echo had made hope linger in the heart of the Brute. Jack had felt their arrival in dismay starving and  huddle in a hysteric ball from days with out feeding. He did not want to lash out at the Garda for doing their duty but neither did they listen close minded like the murderers who wanted to kill him. They say he murdered do-gooders trying to save people from the Vrolok. All he saw were the hateful eyes and unlistening ears of men who struck first with swords than words. They said he aided and fed a monster yet the vrolok was less cruel than the outlanders that mocked him and threaten him each day he owned his tiny shop. He made a deal with a fiend from iadul and yet the Mist Man only cared for watching and sacrificed its life so Jack may live after the same outlanders fought to murder him. His friends had pleaded to cure him, plead to save him, but they did not listen to them. The wolves in sheep clothing barked and nodded but never listened. Yet they could go out their way to save those Soth had taken, a Morning Lordian could save a man from being a Vrolok, an outlander could rescue the captured and tortured souls of friends killing who knows whom and they were heroes they were okay.

Words of Jack being a criminal killing Tigans made him a murderer. Consuming the hearts of countless evils was nothing compared to the one heart of a paladin with no name and his three accomplices. He aided Degannway for his friends, they did not came. He aided Tinu, she did not come. He begged the Garda for the Morning Lordians, he was a Monster. Jack had pleaded till his mind was wrecked till his views were skewed. He wanted to keep his promise to Yueshen and Yolven that he was going to be a good Jack. A better Jack would have done the right thing he thought. But, was the right thing to die? Alone, in the quiet and forelorn mists? Nervously his eyes glanced around the old voice of the Mist Man coming from dark corners. He had starved too long. He had waited to long. The sound of cure was delightful but he knew it wasn't true. How many times did a cure hang before him before it was taken from him? How many times those he loved died before even it appeared.

A cure was a lie. Hope was a lie. Sheep lied. They had all lied. Would they rescue him sacrificing their lives? Would they kill the lives of his friends in his absence? Would the Ezrites hunt his friends down? Would Outlanders hunt them down? The thoughts infuriated Jack and he remembered the cure. The cure that kept him alive so long. It was always there before him. The voices mocked and joked but grew silent as he laughed in his cell uncontrollably. Hate was the cure. Bad people, uncaring people, lived because they hated. The Ezrites hated and they lived, the outlanders lived cause they hated. Hate was everything. Hate was a cure. To hate what you are, to hate who they are, to hate them all was life. There was no happiness, there was no joy, all any wanted from each other as hate.

"Hate me, so I can hate you. Hatred never dies. It never goes away. It's in the heart of all things and as long as you hate me I will never go away."

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Curse

The night before his death to come Jack had used his own sharpen teeth to draw his own blood. If he was cursed then a cursed thing could curse another. That was his thought. If he spoke the curse, drew the curse, and the curse was real. Then the curse was true. The mind of the once gentle giant was angry and it reverted to the broken mind of the man who first came into the mist savage and unrelenting. Pictures strewn the prison cell walls in his blood of people and dying, of a monster with teeth seeking from little figures running. He drew his death burning, stabbing, and crying with a little stick figure. He drew his funeral and rising from the mist once more. He drew the screaming faces of sad stick figures as a jack with a hat and teeth stalk through the mists for those who had wronged him.

"Mist dat gave me life. Mist dat wanted to see life. You see the life of Jack. You see they talk the life you gave. They taking the gift you gave. They taking the things you made. Der hollow filled with hate. Revenge is all I need. For those who wronged me and kill me I wake. You gave me life and they take it away. Make me again in the way you see me. Make me again in the terror they fear me. I won't rest till my friends are safe and my revenge is made. Scorn them well. Bite them good. Jack seeks the hearts of those who could. But, they lied and lied and wrong me true. If they have no heart then it should be true. Oh great Mists who gave me life. Revenge to all who did me wrong forever will I pass my curse to another for hate never dies. Make me the thing that gives to your hollow the thing they care and use with sorrow. Hate filled hearts deserve to be removed much like mine in the time strewn."

Madness and fear hatred and growls Jack furious scribbled pictures in his own blood among the walls. He repeated his words to no one particular knowing well what to do when his time came with no picture.

[Alan Hunter]

The Brute Turmoil

(play: Claymore Soundtrack #14 masanori-takumi-hateshinaki-tabiji)

Pain... it hurt as he slowly smoldered before their eyes after he gave his curse. Flames licked across his flesh birthing bubbles and blisters as he agonizingly wailed with in the fire. He went willingly, he listened to his friends, he tried to be good, and this was his reward. Jack watched as people called him a monster and yelled out his sins judging him before truly knowing him. That was his lot in life since he was born recalling the memories now of his long forgotten past. He realized how much his mother spurned him, hit him, blamed him for everything that went wrong in her life and desired he was never born. The agony of knowing one's mother who had tried time and time again to kill you and call it an accident. She had drowned him as an infant, pushed a pot of flowers over his head, and even in the end after the bad man hurt her tried to stab him. Bitterness welled up with in Jack anger grew as blazoned as the fires that now licked at his charred flesh.

Those that loved him were silent tears filled and stained their eyes. They were kind to him and they had loved him and for a flicker of a moment the smoldering charred oaf smiled feeling sorry for their suffering. Jack knew he was not deserving of their love and that he would not go quietly. The fire had choked his voice horse and robbed him of his words as he screamed a hollow fiery bellow at those that had out him to the stake and fire. The oaf did not blame the garda for doing their job. Nandru was kind and truthful and Jack respected that. The Dawi was kind to allow him to pass on his Will to Ophelia and to the others who would receive his things as compensation for his departing so he would spare the dwarves. The elves whom he helped and was spurned for his works whom turned away and did not even come to his aide he would spare only those Tinu saw fit to spare. His precious loved ones still need him they wept for him and he would avenge their sorrows if he could.

"I swear Galt I will show you the faces you made cried. Instead of facing me and doing away with me by yer own hands ye're a coward and hid behind others to do yer dirty work. Galt Gunderson I spit on yer soul and forever will I be betrayed by who I thought was a dear friend. I trusted you, I clothed ju, I aided ju and ju repaid me with death. Vit dis hollow breathe of smoke and fire do I burn yer name across the Mist. Though no words leave muh mouth the Mist that boils carry on through de vind. If I ever come back I'll hunt ju down. I'll make ju suffer like I suffered. I'll take from ju as ju took from me. And when yer beatin' heart is in my hand and I bite into it in yer horror face vill Jack Wilson rest and sleep. If de mist saved me once den may it make me reborn from de gifts de Mistman and Molly gave me so you will know the pain I had suffer from from dis injustice to friendship and betrayals!"

Though none could hear the vow of the former Jack Wilson the smoldering ash turning remains mouthed as it blackened to smoldering white flesh and charred bones. Though darkness should befall all passing Jack could only see red enraged from his anger at his life taken so freely again and by some one he trusted and loved. Fire filled his vision everything was red and blurring as he could not rest he could not help but stare with in his own skull as the Ezrites desecrated his remains denying his poor Ophelia the right to bury him as he had asked. He would make them pay as well for such a defilement of his soul. Trapped was Jack as he watched himself scattered and carried to the Lake tossed in like refuse into the cold and dark waters of Lake Zarovich watching the dying embers of the day light as he slowly drift and submerged.

His screams roared in Fury his rage went unfiltered cursing all their names. Once more killed unfairly for doing what's right. Killed unjustifiably for even a man cursed would seek redemption and yet still be denied. If this was how the world cruel and true was then what did it matter to him what they thought. If he was a monster then let him be a monster just like them and pay them back in kind. If he were their fears he would show them the horrors of naopte. Jack would dare even dare to defile their so call gods that showed him no succor for only one Entity ever answered his prayers. And as he felt the dark abyss swallow him whole did he feel as if he were swimming wisps of gray swirling about his skull and ruined form red ruby eyes glared like hellfire as he softly prayed to the mists once more.